Miss L's Toes
by darylsdiva1
Summary: Christmas comes to the prison, bringing with it a variety of traditions and some sub-rosa elves who work at making Carol's holiday dreams come true. Caryl fluff.
1. Chapter 1

_**A little AU Christmas fluff, set 4 months before the start of TWD S4. Enjoy!**_

* * *

_**Miss L's Toes**_

"So those are just some of the Christmas traditions that were actually borrowed from earlier pagan peoples." Carol finished her talk on holiday symbols and saw that Lizzie and Mikka, the two new girls who had come in with their father a month ago were quite adamantly debating something with Patrick, the boy with the Harry Potter spectacles. Patrick was a little older than the others, closer to Carl's age, but he still came to story time with the other children and had proved an attentive listener and usually had interesting questions on whatever the lesson of the day had been.

"Something I can answer for you Patrick?" Carol asked, raising her chin higher so she could see the three sitting in the back row more clearly.

"Just trying to explain why you would want to trick a boy into kissin' you." Patrick said, a bit of a blush coloring his pale face. He pushed his glasses up using his index finger in what Carol knew was more a nervous gesture than a need to see her more clearly.

"Mistletoes live on other trees—together in a sort of harmony, like a married couple, so I suppose getting someone you like to kiss you was the first step to having that kind of relationship." Carol explained, but the girls looked even more perplexed.

"All through?" Beth asked, sticking her head in the door of the Library. She was carrying Judith and looking thoroughly harassed. Carol took her watch out of her pocket, checked the time and saw it was a few minutes past when she had been supposed to relieve the girl of her babysitting duties so she could meet up with her boyfriend, Zack.

"Ok, kids, that's all for today. Remember, you need to finish up your gifts for the exchange tomorrow on Christmas Eve at the big Gathering. Let me know if you need any help wrapping."

"Miss Carol?" Luke, the small curly headed boy near the front raised his hand.

"Yes Luke?"

"Do you think Santa will _really_ find us here?" he asked plaintively and all of the kids focused on her reply.

"I believe that he will, honey." Carol said and tousled his hair. The adults were striving to make the first Christmas in the prison into something nice for the children that lived there now. That included a secret sewing project she and several of the women had been working on after hours in their cells out of the way of prying little one's eyes. Speaking of which, she needed to make sure Hershel, Patrick and Carl came in for their final fittings tonight.

The children filed out, following Patrick, who was in charge of getting them back to the cellblock and their parents or guardians. Two of the newer ones had been found wandering alone, almost feral, half starved and untrusting of anyone or anything, but a few weeks of regular feeding and human contact had done wonders for them.

"She'd been kinda fussy all day." Beth told Carol as she handed Judith over and Carol felt the baby's head for any sign of fever, but her brow was cool to the touch.

"She's teething—god, I miss being able to just pop a gummy in the freezer to let her chew on it."

"Rick and Daryl are about to head out on a last check of the snares—have 'em bring you back a cooler of snow." Beth suggested helpfully. "They're in the supply room."

"Good idea—thanks, Bethie!" Carol said cheerfully. As far as she was concerned any excuse to spend more time with Daryl was not something to be passed up. She'd seen very little of him for the last few months while he'd been off with Michonne tracking down any whisper, trace or rumor of Phillip Blake, former "Governor" of Woodbury.

"Thought you'd like that suggestion." Beth said with a cheeky grin and Carol swatted her on the behind lightly as she headed back out the door.

"_Smart ass."_ Carol said under her breath. Lori used to tease her about her feelings for Daryl and since her death last summer Beth had taken up the cause with able assists from both Maggie and Glenn. Daryl would be mortified if he knew the kind of innuendo and quips the young trio used to pull Carol's chain about him.

"Well, Miss Judith—how'd you like to go see your two favorite men?" asked Carol and then she leaned close and whispered in the baby's ear, "Tell you a secret—they're my two favorite men too."

Now that Rick had stepped down from his leadership role, he was concentrating his time on his children and helping to maintain the food supply. He and Hershel had quite extensive gardening and livestock plans they were working on together, and their work outdoors had only shut down in the last two days when a cold snap had hit, turning midwinter rains to snow. Rick had almost lost that air of desperation he'd had since his wife's death, channeling all of his love and caring into his kids and to the group as a whole. While Daryl was gone for extended periods, she and Rick had gotten to be closer friends. Like the others from the original group who had made it off the farm and survived this long, he knew how important Daryl was to her, and was actually the only person in whom she had confided the true depth of her feelings for the taciturn tracker.

With the winter hard upon them, Michonne and Daryl had returned, but hadn't seemed to find their rhythm with the larger group again. It had only been a week, but they still tended to eat their meals alone together and pore over maps planning their next foray rather than mixing with the group as a whole. There were a lot of new faces in the mess hall, which probably also didn't help with those two, who both tended to be shy until they got to know you. They weren't sharing a cell, which was what Carol had half expected them to be ready for after having been out on the road together for almost two months this time. She had no idea what their relationship really was.

Carol was heartened that Daryl and Rick were spending time alone together, hoping that meant perhaps the men were renewing their friendship, which might help convince Daryl to stay a bit closer to home. When Rick had asked her why _she_ didn't tell Daryl she wanted him to stay, Carol had sighed and asked how she could possibly ask him to stop looking for the man who had killed his brother.

"You always have understood him best." Rick had replied, "Right from the start—you liked him first..." _...because he'd tried so hard to find Sophia. _The part of the sentence went unspoken between them. Rick still, right or wrong, shouldered the blame for leaving Sophia alone in the woods, for being unable to find her, for being the one to put her reanimated corpse down. Sophia was a name neither of them ever uttered to each other. They had worked hard to move beyond it, bonding over caring for the kids and building a community here in the shelter of the prison.

When Carol had wanted to have a real Christmas this year, Rick had been the first to come on board with the idea. He and Carl had gone off into the woods and come back with a ten foot tall spruce and everyone had been making ornaments in preparation for the Christmas Eve gathering. When Michonne and Daryl had returned and saw the large pine in the mess, they'd looked puzzled, which saddened Carol, realizing that they'd had no idea that it was only a few days until December 25th.

* * *

"Knock knock!" Carol called brightly as she and Judith arrived at the storeroom door down in the Tombs after first stopping in the kitchen to mix up a fresh bottle of formula. The unheated cells bellow ground made a perfect larder and Rick and Hershel were looking forward to seeing the first hams from their piglets hanging from the ceiling there in the spring. Carol swung the door open and was surprised to see Lizzie, Mikka and their father in a hushed conversation with Rick and Daryl, who wore a deeply bemused expression on his face.

"Thank you for explaining that to us." Lizzie said carefully. "That makes a lot more sense than what _we_ thought."

"No problem girls." Rick said solemnly and then smiled happily as he saw it was Carol and Judith at the door. "Hey, there's my two favorite gals!" Daryl's brows drew together in a small frown at his friend's words. Carol carried Judith over to her daddy, but instead she reached for Daryl, which made his brow clear and his mouth settle into a smirk as he held out his hands for the baby.

"Hi Miss Carol!" Both girls chorused, looking quite smug, and Carol frowned at them as she handed Judith off to Daryl.

"Lizzie? Mikka? Is there a problem?" Carol felt like a teacher being reported to the principal for some reason. She worried that something she had told them in the lesson might have offended them—it was a lecture about pre-Christian symbols after all.

"Nope—no problem at all!" Mikka piped up with a grin and the two girls joined hands and looked up at their father, "Right daddy?"

"Right!" he nodded at them and then smiled at Carol. "Be seeing you." he gave her a little salute and ushered the girls out of the room as they all said quick goodbyes.

"What do you need, hon?" Rick asked Carol, deliberately baiting Daryl's scowl, a little annoyed that his daughter preferred the other man today and so getting back at him by using the southern endearment for his friend.

"Fresh clean snow—Judi's teething and it would help if I could ice one of those liquid teething rings you brought back from the last run." Carol replied, looking a bit wistful as she watched Daryl hold the child.

"That why she'd be gnawin' on me?" Daryl asked wryly, looking at the trail of drool running down the front of his vest as he tried to hold the baby face front, limiting her access to the leather.

"Maybe she just thinks you look _tasty_." Rick quipped, slanting a sly glance at Carol whose cheeks blushed pink at the idea of tasting Daryl...

"Could be..." Daryl said blandly, looking down at Judith and pacing in a circle with her, preoccupied with keeping the baby from turning back around and grabbing a hold of his vest again.

"Just hope no one _else_ thinks that." Daryl added, meaning walkers, but Carol winced as if he'd slapped her and turned away. Rick saw her distress and put his hand on her arm comfortingly and she leaned into his touch, grateful as always for his understanding.

When Daryl finished his circuit of the room he saw them standing closely together and scowled.

"Here—better have her back now so's we can go get your snow." Daryl said gruffly, and Rick released Carol's arm so she could take the baby from the other man. Daryl's fingers inadvertently brushed against the side of her breast as he handed Judith off and her eyes rose to him in shock, but his expression was even more confusing—instead of the embarrassment she expected, he was looking at her with narrowed eyes and an ever so slight smile on his intense face, as if he'd done it on purpose and was gauging her response.

Carol blinked up at him, all big blue eyed puzzlement and he tilted his head at her and took a step back and gave Rick a comradely smack on the shoulder, knocking him slightly forward with the force of it, so that the former sheriff's deputy stumbled a bit.

"You ready?" Daryl asked Rick, who snorted and flashed Carol a grin that she had no idea how to interpret. Rick took two steps towards Carol and the baby and leaned in to kiss the top of his daughter's head and then also kissed Carol's cheek before he stepped back.

Daryl scowled again and looked intensely at Carol.

_"Stay safe."_ the tracker said to her quietly before he swept out of the room, a chuckling Rick in his wake. A very confused Carol watched them go, wondering what that strange little game of ups-man ship had been all about.

* * *

"You are a fucking_ idiot_!"

Carol heard Rick's angry voice berating someone from all the way in the cell block and came running. He was in the mess hall from the sound of it and she almost slid past the door because of the amount of ice and snow someone had tracked in to the hallway. Carl was standing guard outside the door, with instructions to keep people out, but he allowed her to pass. When she entered the room she saw Hershel had Daryl seated atop one of the metal tables while both Rick and Michonne looked on in concern.

"What happened?" Carol asked a bit breathlessly, trying to see around Hershel.

"Fell and dislocated his shoulder." Hershel said, holding Daryl's right arm up, the hand braced against his chest as he palpated the younger man's shoulder.

"_Fell?_ Fell off what?" Carol asked, skirting around the table so she was standing to Daryl's left. She lifted her right hand to touch his left one which was braced, gripping the table, but her fingertips just grazed it. Then his hand came off the table and held hers tightly.

"A tree." Rick said, sounding disgusted. Daryl made an inarticulate sound of pain as Hershel continued to carefully examine him.

_"Shit."_ Hershel said morosely.

"What?" Carol asked anxiously.

"Collar bone's broken too." Hershel told them with a sigh.

"Well, that's just _great_." Rick bit out.

"How long's he gonna be laid up?" Michonne asked flatly. "We were planning on heading out again after New Year's."

Carol glanced sharply at Daryl. This was the first she'd heard of it. She tried to pull her hand from his, but he wouldn't let go.

"At least a month before he'll be able to hold a rifle, six weeks or more depending on how fast the bones knit 'til he heals up enough to draw his bow or control the bike. Won't be much use to you out on the road." Hershel pronounced in that slow no nonsense way he had of making medical assessments.

_"The hell you say."_ Daryl said miserably, looking apologetically at Michonne who grunted and left the room in a huff.

"Looks like you'll both be stickin' close to home after all." Rick said, his eyes shifting from Daryl's unhappy face to Carol's, and then he flashed her a quick grin and then went after the warrior woman.

"Carol, I'm gonna need your help getting' this back in, especially with the collar bone complicating it." Hershel told Carol, looking down at the couples' held hands and concealing a grin.

"I've done it before." Carol told him and gave Daryl's hand a squeeze before she released it.

* * *

"Got him all tucked in?" Carol asked as he saw Rick and Carl come out of Daryl's cell later that evening. After they'd put his shoulder back in and rigged an immobilizing sling Hershel had ordered bed rest so the Grimes men had helped him to his cell while Carol was pressed into service with the final preparation for the next night's festivities.

"He was out before his head hit the pillow—I think Hershel slipped him some cattle tranquilizers." Rick told her with a placating smile.

"So what _was_ he doing up in a tree? Scouting ahead? Was there a herd?" Carol asked quietly, with a nod towards the cell. She'd been imagining all kinds of scenarios, each more dangerous than the last.

"Can't say." Rick shrugged noncommittally, putting his hands on Carl's shoulders. "Hey—don't you need this guy for his fitting?" he asked, distracting her from her line of questioning.

Carol looked over their shoulders to the cell behind them, and Rick could tell she had come up to check on Daryl, but he was under strict instructions to not let her in.

"Carol?" Carl asked, putting a bit of a whine into it. "It's ok if you don't want me—I'm not exactly thrilled to be—"

"Oh no—you're not getting out of it that easily. Come on." and she took the boy by his forearm, pulling him away from his father, but after only a few steps she stopped and turned back to Rick.

"Thank you—for getting him back here in one piece." she told him.

"A little worse for wear." Rick admitted ruefully.

"He's alive—that's all I need." Carol said and then looked embarrassed. "All _we _need." she amended quickly and then turned and strode forward, heading down the stairs with Carl in tow. Rick turned back to the cell behind him and went back inside. Daryl was sitting up in his bunk, but he was clearly in pain, his face pale, pinched and drawn.

"You ready to take Hershel's cattle pills now?" Rick asked his friend.

"You gonna do what I want?" Daryl asked, squinting up at him. "Won't say a word?"

"Said I would. You don't trust me now?" Rick asked impatiently. "Hauled your ass outa the woods after you pulled that fool stunt. Could a left you for walker bait." he handed Daryl the big pill and a bottle of water that he'd set on the wall shelf earlier.

"An' you'll come get me—make sure I don't miss it? Hershel said this could knock me out for almost a day." Daryl asked somewhat anxiously. After all the trouble he'd gone to, he didn't want to miss the fruits of his labors.

"I promise." Rick said solemnly, and then he smiled. "She's gonna love it." He added softly as Daryl took a big gulp of water, swallowing the pill down. Rick flashed back on their little foray into the woods earlier.

* * *

"Those girls!" Rick laughed as he and Daryl made their way through the woods surrounding the prison wearing the snow shoes that Glenn had come up with using old tennis racquets they'd scavenged from Woodbury. Neither of them could remember this much snow in west Georgia this close to Christmas. There was a good two feet on the ground and more falling, easy to see in the light of the full moon.

"Kids mishear stuff all of the time." Daryl grumbled, still a bit pissed off at Rick for his casual kiss with Carol earlier. Yea, it had just been on the cheek, but the obvious comfort that the two had with one another's touches had made Daryl feel as antsy as hell and he didn't like it.

"But wanting to know which walker along the fence was 'Miss L'? Man, that's priceless."

"Those kids all need to stay away from the fences." Daryl said with a sour look. The snow had one good effect on the walkers—it made it harder for them to get around. Their flesh and joints froze up and slowed them down, making them easier pickings, their pathetic blue faces and lack of understanding at what was happening to them making them pitiful.

"They wanted to do a nice thing for Carol—I think that's _sweet._..just like she is..." Rick said leadingly, back to baiting Daryl.

The tracker stopped, lowering his cross bow. The fluffy white snowflakes caught in his long eyelashes and frosted his long dark hair as he glared at Rick.

"Awright—give it to me straight—you two havin' a thing?" Daryl growled.

"Are you an' Michonne?" Rick countered challengingly.

"_Hell _no!" Daryl said with a frown, his head going back in surprise. He and Michonne were like he and Rick—warriors, comrades, brothers.

"_She_ thinks you are." Rick said.

"Carol? Carol thinks Michonne and _me...that_ why she's with _you?_" Daryl asked angrily.

"You care?" Rick asked curiously, canting his head at the other man. "You ain't been around much. A good woman like that gets lonely..." Rick knew he was running a big risk here. It was 50/50 whether Daryl would just shrug and wish for the two of them to be happy together or punch him in the face.

"You kissed her." Daryl said.

"Yeah." Rick said, crossing his fingers at the white lie—the brotherly kiss on her cheek today had been the first.

"More?"

"Not yet." Rick said evenly.

"Hold this." Daryl said, thrusting the cross bow at Rick and bending to untie his make-shift snow shoes.

"What are you doing?" Rick asked, but Daryl didn't respond. Instead he looked at a tall tree in front of them, barren of most of its leaves, but with a smudge of dark round patches near the top. Daryl muscled his way through the snow until he was at the tree's base and then started climbing it. He made it to the top and pulled out his big knife and methodically cut several of the large bunches of green leafy balls away from the tree and dropped them the good 15-20 feet to the ground. He put away his knife and started back down, but unfortunately one of the branches he was using as a hand hold was dead and let loose with a crack, plunging him down. The snow helped break his fall, but he was obviously in pain. Rick plowed through the snow, carrying the bow, his rifle and Daryl's' snow shoes.

"_What the hell, Daryl!_ You could a broke your fuckin' neck!" Rick said in an angry but quiet voice, not wanting to attract anyone or anything's attention. Daryl scowled at him, but just before he passed out he reached to the side with his good arm and stuffed one of the clumps of foliage into the front of his coat.

* * *

"Ho, ho, ho!" cried the jolly old elf in a red suit made from a set of red velvet theater curtains Glenn and Maggie had found in an abandoned movie house. Hershel was born to play the part, especially with the way both his beard and his hair had grown over the last few months. Looking a little less jolly, dressed in green velvet with pointy shoes and hat was his chief elf, Carl, who was busy lining up the kids for their turn sitting on Santa's lap, with aid from assistant elf Patrick.

Carol stood to one side of the door watching all of the happy people gathered together in celebration, Tyreese and Karen, Beth and Zack, Maggie and Glenn, Rick holding Judith as he stopped by the tables of new and old residents alike. The food was ready, the decorations were done and she was exhausted, but it had all been worth it. She had donned her new red velvet dress sewn from the same curtains as Hershel's coat and pants. She'd foregone the white faux fur trim and black belt, not wanting anyone to think she was Mrs. Claus. The cut was simple, hugging her slender figure, with a swinging full skirt that fell to just below her knees. For once she felt festive and pretty. She scanned the room for that certain person, but didn't see him. Michonne was also not present and Carol felt her heart sink, wondering if the swordswoman was with Daryl, trying to convince him that she'd wait until he was healed before going back out.

"Hey." a quiet voice said from behind her and she turned towards it. Daryl was standing just at the threshold to the room. In deference to the occasion he wore black jeans and he'd had Rick help him put on a long sleeved black shirt which he wore buttoned to the top with a silver bolo tie adding to the formality. He hadn't been this dressed up since Glenn and Maggie's wedding. His fringe of bangs was even a little under control, combed back off his forehead to the side. Daryl shifted from foot to foot, but didn't come any further into the room. He was a little awed at how beautiful she looked tonight; all dressed up, _the lady in red..._

"Carol?" he asked, looking at her shyly, a muscle in his left cheek just under his eye twitching.

"What is it Daryl—are you ok?" she asked with concern. _He really probably shouldn't be up and about yet, _she thought with worry. Carol moved towards him, coming close so she could hear his soft voice above the din of excited children behind them.

"So...uh... you believe in all them Christmas traditions you been teachin' the kids about?" Daryl drawled, reaching out with his left arm and tentatively letting his hand rest at her waist. When she frowned at him he let his blue eyes rise skyward. Carol lifted her chin so she could see where he was indicating and then looked back at him, wide eyed, just as his lips met hers.

"That's it!" Lizzie and Mikka cried in delight when they saw the sprig of leafy green and little white berries hanging in the doorway to the mess hall, the plant that Daryl had climbed an oak tree in the woods to get the day before. _"Miss L's toes!"_

The girls looked conspiratorially at Rick and their father, who were both grinning as they watched Daryl maneuver Carol under the mistletoe and then proceed to kiss the hell out of her.

* * *

_**Happy Holidays everyone! **_

_**If you are a follower of my other WIPs, I'll be working on updating them over the winter break, but wanted to get this out to you as my Holiday card of sorts. Take care & Caryl on:)**_

_**DD1**_


	2. Chapter 2: Daryl's Christmas Carol

_**This one's for robinhardy.9028 who wished it was a little longer.**_

* * *

_**Daryl's Christmas Carol**_

He'd not stopped touching her all night after the kiss under the mistletoe. Daryl either held her hand or had _his _hand lightly resting at the small of her back or draped his arm around her shoulders as they sat at the tables or stood and talked with their friends. He watched her too, with that laser intensity he usually employed to track elusive prey in the forest, those few times they'd had to step away from one another, when she was called to adjudicate a dispute over a toy or be consulted about the next dish to be brought out from the kitchens.

From the looks of things he was staking his claim. He'd made a very public statement, kissing Carol in the doorway to the room that held practically the entire community, and by now the story of how he'd been injured climbing the tree for the mistletoe had made the rounds of the place as well. Glenn and Maggie had made good use of the stuff, as had Beth and Zack, and even Patrick and Carl had been dragged under it by Lizzie and Mikka for chaste pecks on the cheek that sent them into gales of giggles.

Rick had been laughing good naturedly at their antics when he saw Michonne come to the door, her body held stiffly as she scanned the room beyond the teenagers. She saw Daryl sitting at a table, his head down with Carol's mouth to his ear so he could hear whatever it was she was saying over the din of the party. Pushing past the kids, Michonne started striding purposefully towards the couple. When she saw Daryl's easy open smile and how he lifted the other woman's hand to press a kiss to the back, making Carol blush prettily, she faltered, confused by the tracker's demeanor. Rick started forward to intercept her, but Daryl had also noticed her and stood, drawing Carol up with him, keeping a firm hold on her hand, both of them smiling warmly at Michonne, glad she had joined the festivities.

"That how it is now? You done with me?" Michonne said icily, implying she had somehow been wronged, knowing it would make Carol jump to all of the wrong conclusions. She needed the tracker to find the bastard who had killed Andrea and she'd do whatever she needed to make him get back out on the road with her.

Daryl watched as Carol's expressive face went from absolute joy and contentment to fear, hurt and betrayal in a manner of seconds and he was furious at the swords-woman for making that happen. He shook his head back and forth in denial, his eyes on hers. The vertical line between her brows deepening, Carol huffed out a little sigh, wanting to believe him. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and rounded on the other woman.

"_What the hell's wrong with you_?" Daryl asked Michonne in quiet fury. People all around them went quiet, uncomfortable with the scene of confrontation. Rick stepped up then and after handing Judith off to Beth, got between Michonne and the newly minted couple.

"Before things get outa hand, let's all take a breath and move this discussion outa here, shall we?" Rick said evenly, putting his hand up in a 'hold your horses' gesture, not quite touching Michonne, who had crossed her arms in front of her defensively.

"Fine." Daryl bit out and keeping hold of Carol's hand, pulling her in his wake, headed quickly for the door to the Tombs without looking to see if Michonne and Rick were following. Carol grabbed one of the big battery powered Coleman lanterns at the entrance to light the way, hanging it from the wall bracket when Daryl finally came to a halt. Daryl backed Carol against the wall and gently held her chin in his hand.

"If she says anything happened between her n' me out on the road, she's lyin'." Daryl told her firmly, searching her face to see if she believed him.

"It's really none of my business." Carol said quietly, coldly, moving her head to the side, forcing him to release her chin.

"Like whatever you had goin' on with _Rick_ ain't none a mine?" Daryl countered, squinting at her. Carol looked at him like he'd just started speaking Farsi and then she started to giggle.

"With Rick? _Me_…with _Rick_? Good lord!"

"He said…well, told me he _kissed_ you."

"On the cheek—today—you were there!" she said. "You were _jealous_?" she reached up and put both her hands on his face, "You are such an _idiot._" She said fondly, tugging on the scrub of whiskers over his jaws.

"What? Why?"

"Because I love _you_. You're the only man I've _ever_ loved." She told him simply, shaking her head at him and smiling so hard through her tears that the dimples creased her cheeks.

_"God, Carol…"_ Daryl said, his heart melting. He had hoped, someday, she might feel the same way about him as he did about her, but to hear her declare it so openly so soon after he'd made his intention to court her clear to her and the rest of the group threw him for a loop. He leaned closer to rest his forehead on hers.

_"I...I love you too."_ He whispered. _"Have for a long time."_ And then he was kissing her again, her hands sliding around his neck to hold his face closer, fingers tangling in the long hair at his nape.

"Well, isn't that just_ precious_?" Michonne drawled sarcastically as she and Rick came around the corner and found them in the clinch. "Didn't think the old gal would be so into sharing, but I guess beggars can't be choosers."

At the insult to Carol, Daryl released her and carefully pushed her behind his body as he took two quick strides forward and got into Michonne's face.

"_Enough._ Now you're gonna tell me what the fuck is goin' on with you, and you're gonna do it _fast_." Daryl said, out of patience. Michonne smirked and rolled her hips lazily as she shifted her weight so she could look around Daryl to face off with Carol. Using her hands to point at her own voluptuous figure, she raised an eye brow at Carol.

"You really think he'll be happy with your skinny white ass when he's been ridin' this _fine_ booty for the last …_how_ long's it been now sugar?" she asked Daryl in a warm honeyed voice, smiling indulgently.

"God_ damn_ it, Michonne, you lost your shit?" Daryl asked, starting to worry about her sanity.

"It was the scars_ and_ the tats—that killer bod's been lived in—you know?" Michonne drawled, continuing her frontal assault on Carol's trust. "My favorite is that through and through _just_ above his waist…" Michonne reached out to Daryl, almost touching the place where the bolt had pierced his side when he'd fallen down the ravine looking for Sophia. She was obviously trying to prove that she'd seen Daryl's naked body, but her bluff was one move too far.

Carol came out from around Daryl and faced down the dread locked woman then.

"Did Daryl ever tell you how he got that scar?" Carol asked. When Daryl opened his mouth to speak, Rick silenced him with a sharp shake of his head.

"We were a little too busy with other things to be tradin' war stories." Michonne jutted her chin out further, sounding smug.

"Daryl almost died trying to find my daughter when she…" Carol looked over at the pained expression on Rick's face before she continued, "…when she went missing." She took Daryl's hand in hers. "When I was at my lowest point…that was when he proved to me that he was brave and kind and honest and _trustworthy._" She looked up at him, giving him a tight smile before her eyes went back to Michonne.

"He didn't find her, but he did everything he could, just like he will to find the man who killed his brother and Andrea…and I won't try to stop him…because I love him and I want him to do be free to do what he needs to do." Carol raised her free hand to take Michonne's, holding onto both warriors now.

Daryl sighed, finally understanding, marveling that Carol had figured it out before he had.

"You'd let him go—just like that?" Michonne looked at her disbelievingly.

"He always comes back to me." Carol said with a small smile and a nod.

"Like a bad penny." Rick said dryly, grinning from having the tension dissolved, making Daryl shoot him a mock glare.

"Nobody's ever…. nobody's ever loved me like that." Michonne said haltingly, in a small voice, seeming to shrink right in front of them, deflating. She looked sorrowfully at Carol. "Fuck. I'm so sorry, Carol…"

"We've all lost so much, so many…" Carol said, looking at the three of them, thinking of the ones they'd all had ripped from them in the last year, brother, wife, child, best friend, _sister_ as both Andrea and Lori had been to her as well. "Had to do things we regret, things that give us nightmares… but we can't turn on each other—we're all we have left."

"No one can do it alone." Daryl said, echoing some of Andrea's last words.

_"Never could."_ Both Rick and Michonne finished the phrase and looked at each other in surprise. Rick reached out and took Michonne's other hand so that they were all four joined together as one, but Daryl's sling tied arm kept it from being a complete circle.

"We ok?" Michonne said to Carol, asking for forgiveness.

"Why don't you buy my skinny old white ass a drink and I'll _think_ about it?" Carol said haughtily, making Michonne bark out a laugh, quickly joined by the men. They released their hand holds and Rick took the lantern down to light their path and they headed back towards the sounds of "Jingle Bells." Beth must've decided to start the carol sing to keep people's minds off of whatever was happening in the Tombs.

"_I like yer ass."_ Daryl whispered into Carol's ear as he sidled up beside her in the darkened corridor, smoothing his hand down the long line of her spine covered by the velvet dress, which felt almost unbearably soft against his rough skin. He knew _her _skin would be even softer and could barely hold himself enough in check to keep from finding the hem of her flowing crimson dress and lifting it ever so slowly to let his hand continue the caress against bare flesh. He settled for cupping one rounded velvet covered firm cheek in his big hand and giving it a squeeze, making her squeak in shock and stop walking.

"There a mouse back there?" Rick asked, chuckling.

"Y'all go on a head—we'll catch you up." Daryl called to the others and Carol leaned back against him. He slid his hand to her belly, moving her slightly to the left so that her bottom was flush up tight against the fly of his black jeans and she gave a sharp intake of breath when she felt the evidence of how _much_ he liked her ass.

"Daryl—the _carol sing_…" she murmured, trying to remind him that they were expected to rejoin the group for the rest of the festivities.

"Uh uh, you're the only Christmas Carol I want." He whispered, sliding his hand up over her abdomen to cup her breast as his mouth moved to nuzzle at her neck. She felt overwhelmed with sensation—if he was able to drive her this crazy with only _one_ hand….

"Be nicer in a bed." Michonne called back with a throaty laugh, "Just sayin.'"


	3. Chapter 3 Walking in a Winter Wonderland

_**Christmas Eve continues as Daryl and Carol find a haven for a private celebration.**_

* * *

_**Walking in a Winter Wonderland**_

"It's beautiful out here." Carol said, turning her flushed face up to catch a slowly spinning snowflake on her tongue. It had let up a bit from when Daryl and Rick had been in the woods yesterday, but was still falling steadily in light fluffy flakes. If anyone was still keeping track this would've counted as one of the biggest snowstorms in west Georgia history, the pristine white blanket temporarily covering over everything wrong with the world, burying walkers and worries alike, at least for one night.

"You aren't too cold?" Daryl asked, wrapping his arm around her shoulders a bit tighter. They'd snuck out the back way from the Tombs, coming into the prison yard, grabbing a couple of coats from the store room that they pulled on so they could make their way through the courtyard to the Administration Building. The boys had been out earlier and had shoveled paths to all of the buildings and around the perimeter of the fences so that the sentries had an easy path, but Carol had also pulled on a pair of boots she'd found in the clothing store room.

"No—you?" Carol asked, trying to catch another of the icy spinners on her tongue.

"Naw—I run hot." he told her and he gave her a sideways look of promise. He felt her shiver, but this time he didn't think it was from the cold.

It had been her suggestion, this walk in the snow. Back in Tombs, when the carol singers had, somehow without irony, segued into "Walking in a Winter Wonderland," his busy hand had found its way under her skirt, skimming lightly up the back of her thighs to the surprise of the scrap of lace thong that she'd donned under her pretty new dress, at Maggie's insistence, to avoid a panty line. Expecting another layer to be covering her, instead his hand met the satin soft skin of her ass and he groaned and gently pushed her face first against the wall, holding her there with his big overheated body while he touched every inch of bare skin on her bottom and then pushed his thumb under the elastic at the waist with the obvious intent to lower and remove the flimsy excuse for panties.

It was too much, too fast for her, to go from their first kiss to this in less than a couple of hours. It wasn't that she didn't want it...want _him, _but sex had never been any good for her and she was afraid she would ruin everything they had begun by not being what he wanted. She was starting to panic and cried out his name.

When she said his name in that frightened voice Daryl immediately stopped what he was doing and stepped back, letting her skirt drop down. Released from his grip and the trap of his body, Carol turned to face him, her cheeks aflame and eyes over bright.

"I—I think I n-need to cool off a bit..."Carol stammered, putting her hands on his chest and gripping his shirt so he would know she wasn't rejecting him.

"Too much?" he said quietly, looking her over—she was so damn pretty all flustered like this. He liked that he'd made her that way, but he hadn't wanted to scare her.

Carol nodded and swallowed hard, hoping he understood.

"It's just...I've never...have... I've never been any good at doing any of this..." she admitted in a small voice, looking at the floor. She felt his hand come under her chin, lifting it so she had to meet his eyes.

"Think I can help with that." Daryl told her solemnly and she frowned at him.

"Daryl—I...' she tried, but there was so much she should tell him that she didn't know where to start. The abuse her husband had doled out wasn't just physical, although that had certainly been a large part of it. Ed had also excelled at the slow chipping away of her self esteem, including stripping her of any confidence in her attractiveness. She knew that she brought valuable skills to the prison community, knew she was respected, loved, but in this one area she was still full of fears. Somehow because of Daryl's own shy manner up until now, she had been able to be bolder with him than she'd ever imagined, flirting and teasing, in large part because deep down she'd never expected him to respond to her as a woman.

All of those years of being a grey shadow, a thing that Ed had only slept with because he'd had the right as her husband to use her any way he wanted, had taken their toll on her ability to trust that any man would want her. She knew from her secret reading as she tried to plan some escape for her and Sophia that she was a marital rape victim, suffering the equivalent of PTSD.

"I know he hurt you. Saw it." Daryl said in a clipped voice, angry at himself, sighing, wishing he'd been able to do more for her back then, but he'd had his own complicated shit, namely Merle, to deal with at the time. "I'm sorry –I wasn't thinkin'. We can go slow as you need."

"You're sure?" Carol looked at him searchingly, wondering why he didn't just find someone without the baggage, someone fresh and innocent...

"You think I don't have my own messed up shit _you're_ gonna have to deal with?" he asked her wryly. He knew she'd seen his scars that day at the farm and probably a few times since—their winter on the road last year hadn't left any of them much privacy—he knew her soft flesh was marred with evidence of her husband's savagery just as his had been by his daddy.

At his admission she gave him a little smile and a sigh and nodded.

"Let's go for a walk in the snow." she suggested, the Winter Wonderland carol still ringing out in some umpteenth verse.

"Wanna cool me off a bit?" he gave her a sweet lopsided grin. She took his hand, a plan for where to go forming in her mind as they headed for the clothing storage.

"Moon's almost full—be good trackin'" Daryl observed, turning his face up to the big round glowing white orb peeking through the clouds. Carol watched the flakes accumulate on his tousled dark hair and light reddish beard or melt as they touched his heated skin. He really was a striking man; not classically good looking like Rick; Daryl was _interesting_ looking. With his slightly crooked nose, off kilter eye socket, (evidence of some unknown trauma to his face), the pointed fox face with narrow eyes and high cheekbones, which was more often than not settled into a scowl or frown, but with the beauty mark by his mouth punctuating every look somehow; she could stare at him all day.

What had Michonne said earlier? His body looked _lived in. _Carol saw the same sort of vital beauty in his face. It was his eyes she noticed most. They were the most clear pure deep blue she'd ever seen, like the evening sky as it deepened toward night. He was violent and mysterious and proud, even while being shy and also so very careful around those who needed him to be. He was amazing.

"Done starin' at me?" Daryl said, not looking at her, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue as she had been doing, catching the floating flakes as they fell. She almost thought she could hear them sizzle as they hit it, turned to steam by his heat.

"Just paying you back for all the times you did it to me." she teased, but it was true. It had puzzled her at first, how often she felt his eyes on her. Sometimes she'd look up and he'd quickly look away, other times he'd give her a little nod or that mouth quirk that passed as a smile. It had been one of the things that Lori and the others had teased her about, how Daryl always sought her out with his eyes or made sure she was in his sight line when they were working or scavenging. She'd thought it was because he worried that she was helpless, hapless, hopeless and needed his protection.

Lori and Carl had Rick, Maggie had Glenn, Beth had Hershel, and so she had Daryl to watch over her. That had been her theory anyway until Lori had pointed it to her that T-Dog could've watched over her just as easily, and he did care, but she never caught him staring at her or setting his bedroll up next to hers when they made camp at night. Of course in the end it had taken both of them to save her that day in the Tombs...

"Man oughta be allowed to look at a pretty woman if'n he's got a mind to." Daryl observed lazily, and then tried catching the snowflakes in his open mouth instead of on his tongue.

"_Daryl."_ Carol protested. Lori, Beth, Maggie, Andrea, Karen—they'd been surrounded by not just pretty, but _beautiful_ women since the farm.

"What?" Daryl asked, and without even turning to look down at her recounted what he saw. "You got that obstinate lil' pointed chin, those soft lips and that turned up nose and those eyes—shit, a man could _drown_ in the ocean a' those eyes, woman." Carol felt tears forming. He knew her by heart.

"Come here." Carol ordered softly and then he did turn and look down at her and she raised her hands to his face, her thumb brushing against the mark on his cheek as she looked into his eyes. His skin was warm, almost fevered, but he looked calm, peaceful, contented, going with whatever she wanted.

"Whatta ya need?" Daryl asked.

"How about the keys to the Admin. Building?" Carol asked.

"Check the left front pocket." he told her and she leaned back and looked down at the front of his tight black jeans. His big buck knife was hanging next to the left pocket (opposite of where it was usually, so he could grab it with his unrestricted left hand) and the jeans were so tight she could see the outline of the keys. She looked back up at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Want in there?" he nodded towards the door in front of them, where their meanderings had finally taken them, "Ya need the key." he shrugged, unrepentant. Taking the challenge Carol lowered her right hand to his pocket, keeping her eyes on his face. His eyes startled wider and he blinked.

"Oops." she grinned. "Missed the pocket." And then _her _eyes went wider as he responded to her touch. His fingers went to her wrist, easing her hand away from him.

"Thought you were all about _slow,_ sweetheart...that ain't _no_ way to slow me down..." Daryl admonished and she blushed. He released her hand and pulled the keys out of his pocket and handed them to her. "Ready to go inside now?" he asked, glancing towards the door.

* * *

"In here." Carol told him, leading the way to a large wooden paneled door behind which was the warden's office suite. They had been working on making this a fall back shelter since it was one of the only places in the prison complex with a fireplace. The cell blocks had been outfitted with potbelly stoves they'd scavenged from surrounding cabins and homes and they gave off enough heat to keep the place at about 60 degrees even in the recent cold snap, but none of the other buildings were heated.

After checking the flue, Carol gathered up some of the paper strewn around and used it as tinder to start the fire which had already been laid up in the brick and stone fireplace, adding larger logs as it caught. That had been one of her tasks over the winter, literally keeping the home fires burning, and she had learned it well. As the room warmed she tugged off the oversize coat she'd put on and laid it spread out over the warden's desk chair to dry.

"Gimme a hand?" Daryl asked, trying to drag the large leather couch over closer to the fire. _This arm in a sling shit was getting old real fast._ He thought to himself. Hershel's cattle pill had worn off and he was feeling the ache deep in his bones. He had another of the pills, but Hershel had warned him that even at half it would knock him out for the night so he wasn't about to take it yet.

"Daryl—you shouldn't be—_stop,_ I can do it." Carol told him, moving behind the couch and using her body weight to slide it across the floor and he followed her lead until they had the big sofa about 5 feet from the fire. "Sit." she ordered him, and went to the small cache of supplies stored in a milk crate on the warden's desk and found a bottle of water and the small med kit. He perched on the edge of the seat cushions, waiting for her. She sat down beside him and opened the kit and took out the bottle of Ibuprophen and shook out about six of them.

"That for me?" Daryl asked. "Rather have a shot a bourbon." he grumped, but the idea of some relief from the pain in his shoulder and collar bone that wouldn't make him catatonic was welcome. Carol shook her head at him and gave him the pills and opened the water bottle for him. After downing them with a swig he leaned back against the soft leather and handed her back the bottle. She took a long drink from it as well and then set it on the floor, unsure of what to do next. There was about a half foot of space between them on the couch.

_"Sure like to kiss you some more..."_ Daryl murmured softly, reaching out his hand to run his fingers down the side of her arm on the soft velvet sleeve. Carol felt a little like she was a teenager in the back row of the movie theatre with the sweet boy she'd had a crush on forever. His hand closed over her wrist and she slid across closer to him. He turned sideways facing her, but with his immobilized arm the attempt at an embrace was awkward.

"Wait." Carol said and stood. He looked alarmed, worried she was leaving, but instead she carefully pushed him back to his original position facing front and sat herself sideways on his lap, curling against his good shoulder and his arm went around her back to support her. "Is this ok?" she asked him. "I don't want to hurt you."

In reply he lowered his face to hers and lightly kissed her on the tip of her nose, chin, then both cheeks, until finally finding her lips with his. She tasted like sugar cookies, his favorite, salty sweet delicious, and he couldn't get enough of her. He deepened the kiss, his tongue meeting hers, slippery soft, gently insistent that she respond in kind.

_How could just kissing be so hot?_ Carol wondered. The way his scruff of facial hair abraded her cheeks and chin should've been itchy, annoying, but it was so _him, so_ masculine and_ so _carelessly sexy it made her wet. She found herself kissing him back more desperately, sucking down on his tongue and heard his groan, felt it deep in his chest as he held her tighter against him. His mouth left hers and moved to her ear, pressing little kisses all along her jaw and cheek.

_"Carol?"_ he whispered, _"You doin' ok, darlin'?"_

_"Mmm Hmm."_ she murmured and he continued to kiss a line down her neck until he reached the collar of her dress, which he took in his teeth to pull to the side out of his way, making her smile.

"Wait." she said and reached up to unbutton the first two collar buttons to give him better access to her neck and he gratefully continued his lips' path on down over her collar bone.

"More?" he pleaded and she undid two more buttons, showing him the top edge of the lacy push up bra, another gift from Maggie, and the deep V of her cleavage it created, making the most of her slender figure.

_"Damn."_ He breathed hot against her skin and she felt him lick and taste her there and her little cry and hitched intake of breath emboldened him to make a point of his tongue and push it between her tightly held together breasts in imitation of other more intimate acts.

"God, Daryl, what are you doing to me?" Carol moaned, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his hair.

_"More? Please?"_ he begged, lifting his head to look at her, unable to help undress her because of his bound arm, but also letting her be the gatekeeper, in control of how much of her to which he had access.

Staring at his intense face she reached down and unbuttoned her dress to the waist and opened it, pulling it to the sides, showing him the wisp of white lace against her creamy lightly freckled skin. He could see the blush of her nipples, now hard little peaks pushing against it, through the sheer fabric and his mouth watered. His hand at her back found the other side of the bra, tracing his fingers across it, but then he looked puzzled.

"It unhooks in the front." Carol told him and he smiled slightly and nodded. She was still the gatekeeper. Taking a deep breath she reached both hands up and worked the fastening to undo it, but still held the fabric in place over herself, shy again, her eyes lowered.

"Won't do anything you don't want me to." he promised her, leaning back in to move his lips over her fingers, gently easing her fears that he would find her less than he deserved. She so wished she had met him when she was younger, still had that blush and firm skin of youth...he should be with someone as...

_"I'll make it good—you'll see..."_ he murmured between kisses and then she felt herself loosen her firm hold on the lace and let her hands fall to her waist. His chin lowered again and he nudged aside the dainty cup so he could sweep out his tongue, hot and wet over her creamy white skin and she lay back against his strong arm, made weak at the riot of sensation.

"God bless Victoria's Secret." he said reverently, briefly lifting his mouth before doing the same to the other side and this time he enclosed the tight pink nipple with his lips and swirled his tongue around it, drawing it up hard against the roof of his mouth, making her cry out his name. He backed off, soothing with the swirls again until she gripped his hair tightly, pulling at it, pulling his face closer to her.

_"More?"_ Daryl asked and at her wordless nod yes, happily obliged, paying service to her small full breasts with his mouth and tongue until she was almost writhing in his lap, admitting to herself that he had been _right_, he did know how to make it _good_ and she definitely wanted _more._

"Hot enough _now_ to take yer dress off?" he asked, moving back up to lick her collar bone, as if the only reason she would still be dressed was the temperature in the room. Carol chuckled at the line...as lines went it was a pretty good one she supposed, not that she'd ever heard that many. She'd only ever dated two other boys before she met Ed and had married him instead of finishing her junior year at university.

"Pretty smooth there, Dixon." she told him and then slid off of his lap to the right so she could stand in front of him, back lit by the fire place's soft glow, her skin flushed.

"Not if it makes you run away..." he said with concern, but stopped short when she finished unbuttoning the velvet dress and let it fall to the floor, pooling around her feet. She slipped the bra straps off of her shoulders and it followed the dress to the floor. Now wearing only the white lace thong she stood there, one arm across her chest and the other covering the scars on her abdomen in a last ditch effort at modesty.

Daryl sat up on the edge of the couch cushions, his mouth opened in surprise at her little shy strip tease and then his gaze roved over her toned and trim form –_shit_, what she'd been hiding under those baggy clothes was a sin to cover up. Legs that a runway model would envy, tiny waist, breasts that perfect size to hold in one hand, long elegant neck and that ass—_god damn,_ he needed to _worship _that ass...

"Com'ere?" he asked and she took a tentative step forward, a questioning look on her face, but he held out his hand and she took it, letting him pull her to him. He spun her around and she yelped a little when she felt his mouth on her in the small of her back as his hand at her hip held her still.

"You do realize you have a world class ass, right?" he growled.

_"Daryl!"_ she protested, but his mouth just moved lower, over the left cheek, kissing where earlier his hand had caressed, while he hooked his fingers through first one side and then the other of the elastic at her hips and lowered the thong off of her to fall to the floor, baring her to him. His hand moved between her thighs then, fingers curling up, feeling how wet she had become from his loving attention and he groaned with desire. He spun her again until she was facing him and buried his face in her short curls, his strong tongue pushing inside, shocking her into stumbling back, her chest heaving.

Daryl looked so disappointed, like a little boy who's just had his favorite toy taken away from him, that she almost laughed. He leaned forward too fast, grimacing a little from the sharp quick pain that brought from his injuries, bringing her back a step closer to him in concern.

"You don't have to..." she soothed, in part because she worried that it would hurt him to continue and also because she couldn't believe _what_ he had started to do, how _into _it he had seemed. It was something that had never been part of her experience in her marriage—one of the reasons she'd sought out her little battery powered boyfriend—Ed had never cared if she got any satisfaction.

"Want to...need to..." he said in a low gravelly voice, _"Make it good for you—promised..."_ He lifted his fingers to his lips and slid them inside with an _Mmm _sound of gourmet appreciation and a wicked raised eyebrow look, _"So sweet ... please?"_

_"Daryl..." _she moaned, taking a step towards him. He wasn't playing fair. "You'll hurt yourself." she protested, knowing he shouldn't stress his shoulder or collar bone.

"Not if you help." he replied, capturing her wrist and urging her closer.

"Help?" she asked, not yet clear on what he was suggesting.

"Com'ere." Daryl said, standing now. Carol took his hand and he sat her on the couch, right at the edge of the seat and then, bracing his good arm on it, lowered himself to sit on the floor of front of her.

"Are you ok?" she asked, putting her hand on his left shoulder and he nodded at her.

"Lean back—relax." he commanded quietly, his voice soft and reassuring and so she did as he asked, reclining back against the soft leather of the couch already warmed by his body and the closeness of the fire. Then he drew her right leg over his left shoulder, opening her to his gaze and leaned in. She startled, her hips flinching up when she felt his strong bicep graze under her inner thigh, his forearm curling around so he could draw his fingers through her curls again, wet now in anticipation, opening her further to him. She felt his breath on her and tensed, but then almost melted at the touch of his soft tongue. Of all the skills she knew Daryl Dixon possessed she never would've guessed that this would be one at which he excelled...as much as she loved him, he was still such a mystery to her in so many ways.

Daryl could feel her breath grow irregular as he pleasured her, wanting her to know how much it meant to him to be able to give her this, knowing that the bastard she'd been tied to for so long wouldn't have cared enough to be there for her like this, like she deserved. He'd been hard since he'd kissed her under the mistletoe, wanted to sink into her soft hot wetness more than anything, but it needed to be good for her first. For the first time in his life he understood what it meant to care about a woman as both a friend and a lover; he'd never had one before who was both.

Carol looked down at him silhouetted in front of the blazing fire, all in black, his long dark hair spilling over her upper thighs and belly as his head bobbed rhythmically against her, feeling the flush of some delicious frission beginning at the place where he so patiently used his talented tongue.

Daryl raised his head and looked up at her, saw the flush beginning at her chest, the dazed look of pleasure on her face and waited until she met his eyes. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, unsure if he was done, as if she was afraid to voice her desire, to ask him to continue what he'd been doing.

"Good?" he asked, waiting to be sure. Carol nodded her head up and down mutely, her breath coming in little pants and he shook his head, agreeing with her. "This's what you wanted me to do _...first..."_ her mouth came open and she blushed. "Right? Like you said when we first got here...to the prison...that first night?"

The man had the memory of an elephant.

"Been thinkin' 'bout that ever since—imaginin' what it'd be like—to go down on you first—to taste you until you screamed..." he eyes narrowed and darkened to midnight blue, _"You ready to scream now, sweetheart?"_ he asked, taking deep rapid breaths like free diver preparing for a plunge, saturating his lungs with oxygen. Carol whimpered with desire, grabbing onto the soft leather of the couch to anchor herself and he grinned to watch her do it.

She screamed. Loud and long and hard, but she also laughed in delight and crooned his name as he took her to places she'd never been before. And then, at the end, it wasn't just the way he found the exact right place to strum her with the tip of his tongue or that he sucked her rigid little clit into his mouth and delicately nibbled at it and then licked it over and over with velvet softness, or even that when he felt her go rigid, knew that her orgasm was rising he used his fat tongue like a small slick cock and thrust it up inside her, sending her over the edge...

All that had been wonderful, mind shatteringly so, but it was after, when he pulled her down beside him on the floor and held her while she wept, so unused to anything but a beating for being inadequate at this that she was overcome with emotion at his tenderness. He didn't question if he'd done something wrong or feel the need to soothe her with platitudes. He just held her, understanding, until she cried herself out.

* * *

_**One more chapter after this, folks. Thanks for sticking with it!**_


	4. Chapter 4: Oh come all ye faithful

**_Well, this is the final chapter in my little Christmas Caryl. I've enjoyed writing it for you. Thanks for reading and have a blessed holiday, wherever you may be._**

* * *

"_**Oh come, all ye faithful..."**_

Carol awoke, laying on the floor, facing Daryl, her head resting on his good shoulder, his hand at the curve of her waist, a quilt drawn over the both of them. The fire was still burning—he must have added more wood to it while she slept—and she lifted her head to look at Daryl's face, smooth and untroubled in sleep. It really was a good face, full of character. She loved the scruffiness of it, the little patch of grey at his chin, the hair he'd let get long and shaggy, refusing to let anyone trim it back, saying he'd had to keep it short for work too many years, making Zack's ears perk up, still intent on trying to figure out what Daryl had been before the turn.

Daryl had removed the bolo tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, probably to get more comfortable in the warmth of the room, and Carol reached up and let the back of her hand brush along the strong column of his neck up to the line of his jaw and cheek bone, and then pushed the fringe of bangs off of his forehead. She turned her hand and with her fingers traced the outline of the diagonal scar that ran across it. Then she ran her index finger down the bridge of his nose to the tip.

"You pettin' me?" he asked lazily, not opening his eyes.

"Any place _else_ you'd like me to pet you?" she asked teasingly, her cheek dimpling at him as he smirked at her and snorted.

"I'm all yours, darlin'—'cept for the broke parts at the moment a' course.'

"Why _did_ you climb that tree, Daryl?" she asked him then, "You could've broken your neck."

"Rick said the same thing." Daryl said.

"So why?" Carol asked again and he opened his eyes to look at her.

"So's I could do _this."_ he told her and used his arm at her side to pull her close for a series of sweet kisses that grew quite passionate by the last.

"I do love mistletoe." Carol agreed with a big sigh, her head spinning a bit from the intensity of his kisses.

"Rick got me dressed tonight." Daryl told her.

"He's a good friend," Carol nodded, still a bit mystified that Daryl had thought there had been something going on between she and the former lawman.

"Yeah, he is—but that ain't what I meant—if you want me _un_dressed...well, yer gonna have to do it yourself...maybe throw some a' that nice pettin' in too..." he wheedled, blinking his eyes at her innocently.

_"Daryl!" _Carol said in embarrassment. Who _was _this playful charmer?

"Don't think Hershel will much like it if we take the sling off again—he was pretty pissed we took it off to get this shirt on—pants though—that should be ok." Daryl said reasonably. They'd already removed their shoes and boots when they came in.

Carol was at a loss. Was he really expecting _her _to remove his pants?

"Or we can just cuddle up and go back to sleep—your call..." he said quietly, noting her confusion. "We got lots more nights after this to be together...if that's what you want..." a note of insecurity crept into his voice at the last and then Carol felt horrible letting him think for even a second she was hesitating because she didn't want him.

"I need to tell you something and I need you to just listen until I'm done so I can get through it, ok?" Carol asked, all in a rush.

"Okay."

"I was 19 when I married Ed Peletier. Until tonight he's the only man I ever had sex with. It was my marital duty—that's what my mother told me—to do whatever he wanted. Most nights it was to just lay there without moving while he fucked me...but sometimes even that...that made him angry. He said I was frigid and hurting me was the only way to get a response out of me. He never did anything to prepare me—never made me feel an ounce of what you did tonight just by _kissing me_ under the damn mistletoe—and so it _hurt._ It always hurt...but it brought me my beautiful baby girl so it was something I endured. Sometimes it hurt worse...when he was drunk or had a bad day at work or lost at poker...then it would be a beating _during_ instead of after...and he got off on it, Daryl..._hurting me_..."

"Carol, I—need to-" Daryl began, furious on her behalf, but she shook her head at him, she wasn't finished.

"I want_ you_, Daryl—I do—so much I _ache_ with it...but I don't know if I _can_." She'd confided a little of this to Lori, long ago and the other woman had assured her that when the right man was there for her, everything would be all right. Carol wanted to believe that.

"I'm so proud of you for survivin' that asshole." Daryl said, smiling fiercely at her. "...and as for bein' frigid—the woman I just spent an hour wearin' myself out on...n' her comin' so many times I lost count—well, she sure as _hell _ain't!"

Carol blushed, remembering.

"I'm at your mercy—you know that, don't you?" Daryl asked her softly. "Honey, I _literally_ got one arm tied from behind my back, so _you're in charge here._ You can _do_ or _not_ do _whatever_ you want with me."

Carol sat up and looked down at him, considering his statement while biting her thumbnail in unconscious imitation of his usual nervous tic. He leaned his head on his good arm and looked up at her.

"You ever ride horses?" he asked. Carol blinked at the non-sequitor, but then slowly nodded. She and Sophia had gone trail riding at a friend's farm as often as they could sneak away, usually when Ed was away on business trips. She'd loved the freedom of racing across the hills in the open countryside, far away from the city and her cares.

"So what do ya so when you get bucked off?" Daryl said, looking at her meaningfully. She flashed back on how she'd prevented him from going back out to search for Sophia, so determined to get back on that horse even as hurt as he had been...

"Daryl, it's _not_ the same." she protested.

"It's _exactly_ the same." he told her with a determined glint in his eye.

"I don't know-" she began, but he sat up and took a hold of her hand, placing it on his belt buckle. And then he raised his free left arm and put it behind his head, resting his neck on his bicep, effectively saying he wouldn't try to touch her unless she wanted him to.

"You're in control...I'm _yours_..." he said, his voice all seductive gravelly encouragement. _"Ride me hard and put me away wet."_

Carol's eyes went wide at the suggestive play on words. Her other hand slowly rose to his belt and she unbuckled it and slid it from the loops, pulling a little too hard so that it snapped out at the end and he shuddered at the whip crack sound, but still didn't raise his hand.

"Sorry," Carol winced, recalling his scarred flesh, wondering how his father had made those marks, realizing how much trust he was showing her as well.

"It's all good." he told her quietly, and she quickly leaned over him and gave him a soft kiss on the lips before she returned to her task.

She stared at the black jeans pulled tight at the fly. She'd been here before, had let her hand brush against him as she teasingly looked for the keys to this building earlier in the evening, and had felt the rigid outline of him under the heavy denim. Without the belt the loose waist of the jeans dipped lower and she saw the top elastic band of his black briefs. Starting at the side of his waist she ran her fingers under the stretchy band and he flinched, his taut belly sucking in. When she reached his centerline he groaned, so hard now that the tip of his cock was visible just under the low slung elastic, straining up as if begging to be released.

"Can I?" she looked up at him, "May I?" she asked, all fearful shy politeness.

_"Might die if'n you don't,"_ he gasped, staring intently at her, sweat breaking out in his brow. That made her smile, feeling powerful.

Very carefully she undid each of the five silver buttons, one at the waist and four for the fly. He shifted his hips up so she could pull the 501s down, dragging them off over his feet. She ran her hands up over his shins and knees, felt the solid muscles of his thighs; the coiled snake tattoo there on the pale skin of his left amusing her. She'd thought he'd be that same copper gold tan of his arms all over, but she realized she'd never seen him wear anything but long pants, even on the hottest days. When she reached his hips, his black briefs all that remained of his clothing on the lower half of his body, she stopped and looked at his face, nervous again. He was grinning.

"Since you're about to finish unwrapping your present, _Merry Christmas_, _darlin'_" he drawled and actually winked at her and she chuckled at his silliness, breaking the tension a bit. He raised his hips again and she took a deep breath and slipped his underwear down and off as well.

Daryl watched her brow knit together in concentration, staring in fascination at his erection, which probably should've intimidated him, but it just made him hotter for her. She was so sweet, innocent in her own way despite everything she had been through. He held his breath as he waited for her to touch him, counting backwards from a hundred in his head so he wouldn't lose it, go off before he could be with her, inside her.

"What do you like?" she asked him then, before she touched him, not wanting to do anything wrong. He frowned down at her.

"Just about anything you've a mind to do shorta pullin' a Lorena Bobbit sounds fine to me." he told her jokingly, but his left cheek under his eye twitched in an involuntarily wince at the thought of what an angry wife could do to her cheatin' spouse with a good head a steam and a sharp knife.

"Daryl!" Carol rolled her eyes at him. "I'm serious!"

"Shit, if it ain't fun, it ain't worth doin'." he said, but she still frowned at him, really wanting some instruction. He leaned up off his arm and sat up a little so he could take her right hand in his left.

"What you were doin' before? Pettin' me gentle like? Start with that." he asked, and guided her hand to him, closing her fingers around the shaft and then releasing his grip to return his arm up under his head, taking a shuddering breath. The counting backward shit wasn't going to cut it. He closed his eyes and pictured the big Mossberg shot gun and started breaking it down, each section, as if readying it for cleaning, muttering the names of every frickin' part, in order, under his breath, workin' to keep from popping off in her hands.

Carol knew she had small hands. She'd given up on her piano lessons when she couldn't span an octave. When Ed had made her jerk him off, a 'quick handy' as he called it, she could completely encircle him, her fingers touching. He liked it fast and hard, coming quickly with a grunt and a cuff to her head if he thought she'd been too slow.

Daryl's skin was softer than the luxurious leather of the warden's sofa, covering a cock harder than she'd ever felt, and so thick that her hand could barely enclose it three quarters of the way around. She brought her other hand up and then did what he'd asked, just petted him softly, running her fingers along his inner thighs and then up over and around his sac, which was drawn up tight and close to the base. Following the line of the pointed arrow shaft and head, she continued up and over his hips, amazed at the kid glove texture of his flesh there too. Then she returned her hands to his cock, using both to encompass him and he whimpered and his hips hitched up and back, pumping into her hands and he swore with need.

"Shit—wanna _be inside_ you—_please?" _he asked, biting his upper lip as he looked at her pleadingly. She looked confused, but then released him and started to lie back, but he sat up and stopped her.

"What? What's wrong?"

"I can't—I'd need both arms to hold myself above you..." Daryl tried to explain his dilemma, it really was a matter of physics, or perhaps logistics, but missionary wasn't really on the table.

"Oh." Carol said, at a loss, and then understanding dawned and she blushed, "You mean..."

"I wasn't kiddin' afore when I told you ride me—_ride me...hard_." he said a bit tightly, hoping she was up for it.

"Wait." she said and then stood and went swiftly to the couch and grabbed one of the seat cushions up and lifted something underneath it with her other hand. She brought the cushion to him and helped him put it under his back and then sat back down beside him, stealing a glance below his waist and sighing. She held up a small box with a picture of a stylized Greek soldier on the side.

"Glenn stashes those little buggers everywhere, doesn't he?" Daryl said admiringly, glad she'd thought of it. "I ain't got no diseases or nothin'—just so's you know." He told her. Before the Turn he'd given blood at the Red Cross regularly, something he'd never told his brother, knowing Merle would've called him a pussy for giving it away when he could sell it at the medical school.

"Me neither, other than the one we _all _have." Carol reminded him, "The Red Cross tests your blood when you donate, so I—"

"Me too," Daryl interrupted with a smile, unreasonably happy that they had something in common from before the Turn besides their histories of abuse. Carol smiled back, a bit bemused.

"So yes or no?" she said, rattling the condoms in the box.

"Well, I ain't shootin' blanks..." Daryl said leadingly. Carol's hand went to her abdomen, touching the scars there, a pain filled look haunting her face.

_"Oh shit..."_ Daryl murmured. "I'm an ass-com'ere." he said, raising his arm and reaching out to her. She went to him and he hugged her close, his mouth at her temple. "I'm sorry...didn't put two n' two together...he hurt you..."

Carol didn't speak at first, the memory still raw, though it had been almost eight years ago, until the plague, until the dead rose; it had been the worst time in her life. Daryl waited, listening to her breathing, waiting for it to even out.

"I lost a baby." she finally said. "What they call an ectopic—a tubal pregnancy—Ed wouldn't take me to the doctor, said I was just being weak. It ruptured; I almost died from the infection. I had emergency surgery and they had to take..." she sighed, "...everything." It had infuriated Ed. Not only had she lost what he'd been sure was the son he'd expected Sophia to be, but it had made his wife even more useless, unable to have any more children. She wondered if Daryl would feel the same way.

"Sorry you lost yer baby..." Daryl said, kissing her temple. "But there's enough orphans these days need parents; don't need to be bringing any more sorry ass Dixons into the mix." Daryl said definitively, the matter settled as far as he was concerned.

"Daryl?" Carol couldn't fathom that was all he had to say on something she'd been dreading having to tell him, had never told anyone, not even Lori.

"And_ bonus_—don't need these lil' buzz kills neither!" he said happily, picking up the condom box and tossing it back up onto the couch.

Carol stared at him for a long time, disbelievingly, her eyes filling with tears.

"You just gonna watch me forever?" Daryl asked, giving her a little shake with the arm still wrapped around her. The tears rolled down her cheeks and then she swiftly moved to kiss him, putting all of her love for him, for his ability to go through hell and just get on with it, _living, _and for expecting nothing less of her, into it_. _ He moved his hand to tangle his fingers in the short hair at her nape, holding her head to him and kissed her back, deepening it and then she moved over him, straddling his waist, bracing her hands on the cushion behind his shoulders.

Carol let her hips slide lower, rubbing herself against him, and he groaned. He'd subsided somewhat as their talk had turned serious, but the hot velvet center of her dragging up and over his cock in a relentless rhythm soon brought him back to full attention. It also felt absolutely amazing to her—and she was getting more turned on by the second—slick and heated.

Daryl chuckled at the concentrated little vertical wrinkle in between her brows as she moved herself on him. She stopped at the sound and frowned down at him.

"What—is it not..._what?_ She asked, her breath coming in short panting gasps.

_"Don'stop..._I _like_ it." he frowned, grasping her hip, encouraging her to resume her motions.

"I can tell..." she said dryly and then reached down, grasping him firmly, a bit intimidated by how much of him there was to grasp, but taking a deep centering breath to find her calm.

_ "You sure?"_ Daryl asked, knowing she was nervous.

"Know what my favorite Christmas carol is?" Carol said as she lowered her hips, pushing back against the tip of him, slickened with her juices, guiding him inside while making an inarticulate little animal noise of pleasure as she fought to relax enough to let him push deeper inside.

_"K—k—Carol?"_ he groaned and she wasn't sure if he was saying her name or wondering at her last question. Carol leaned down and licked around the curve of his ear, and then she sang in a raspy mezzo soprano growl,

_"Oh __come__...all ye faithful..." _and he burst out laughing at the same moment she bit down on his ear lobe and pushed her hips back down hard, sheathing him almost half way inside her tightness. His head went back and he yelled and his hips bucked up into her, completely seating himself in her depths.

"Oh _fuck_." Carol gasped and her mouth and eyes came open in wonder, rising up to look down into his face, moving her hands to rest on his belly.

"_What _did you just say?" Daryl asked, shocked into another laugh. He'd rarely heard her cuss, and he'd almost _never _heard her say that particular word. Carol blushed, but then shrugged.

"If I do it, I should learn to say it." she said, trying for flippant.

_"Uh uh."_ Daryl said quietly, suddenly looking serious and shaking his head at her in negation. He reached his hand up to her cheek. "_Not _what we're doin'." She frowned and tilted her head at him._"You_ know," he told her and drew her down for a gentle kiss, and then he spoke, his hand at her nape, holding her forehead to his as they began to move together_. "This...this is makin' love...I love you..."_

_ "Daryl...I love you too..."_ Carol whispered, overcome with emotion, joyful, triumphant.

* * *

Outside, the white blanket of snow continued to fall, filling in all the gaps and hollows in the landscape. Inside, two lonely people had found the same in each other, a new beginning, born in their faith in and love for one another, this second Christmas after the Turn.


End file.
